The Song Of My People

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My kind of Southern…

A Facebook quiz recently asked, “How Southern Are You?”, and several friends of mine had taken the quiz and shared their results.  I was curious about the questions and what my percentage might be, so I took the quiz.  I had done 19 of the 36 things listed, giving me a paltry 53% Southern score.  I was disappointed until I realized how limited the quiz was in its scope.

This whole thing started me thinking about what “Southern” really means, realizing that it varies by state, region and individual.  My reflections on Southern-ness are unique to me even though many other people will have shared the same experiences.  So, if I may wax rhapsodic for a few minutes, I would like to share a bit of what being Southern means to me.

 

 

The song of my people

is dinner on the grounds and

breakfast for supper

 

front porch swings and rocking chairs

and the squeak of Granny’s old aluminum

glider

always moving

never going

anywhere

 

aprons dusted with biscuit flour and

women like Southern tea

sweet and strong

 

white-glove gentility and

hard-nosed grit

 

I can talk about my family

any way I like

but you

you best not

 

cast iron skillet and mason jar

vessels of promise

 

fifth Sunday hymn service

and shouts from the Amen corner

the song of my people

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